


Feathers and Bones

by RyuuShinobi



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, cross-faction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5750476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyuuShinobi/pseuds/RyuuShinobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BLU Medic is shot out of the sky, and RED Sniper finds him, but for whatever reason, Sniper shows him mercy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers and Bones

**Author's Note:**

> heyyyy ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ give me all of the hurt mercs, I enjoy pain.  
> [Tumblr Mirror @ryuushinobi](http://ryuushinobi.tumblr.com/post/137524377732)

In hindsight, he shouldn't have been airborne during the final moments of the match, but perhaps there was a small part of him that held onto the hope of someone managing to push the cart the rest of the way.

Unfortunately that was not the case. The booming, disappointed voice of the Announcer echoed through the ears of the mercs. The sounds of yelling and gunfire turned to aggressive RED jeering and the BLU screams as each member was sent through one last respawn trip. The sounds started to quiet down, only to have a single gunshot ring out, and a piercing pain lanced through one of Medic’s wings.

"Scheiße!" Medic hissed through his teeth as his wings crumpled and folded in a white blur, causing him to drop from the sky. He attempted to flare out his wings to catch himself, maybe glide to a safe landing, to no avail. It burned, a fire licking at his muscles, threatening to char him from the inside out. Instead, Medic shut his eyes. He drew his body in tight, wings curling around himself in a protective, feathery ball.

Snow was harder than he expected. A harsh grunt was forced out of Medic’s throat as he landed. He stayed curled up, heart pounding in his chest and the rush of blood through his ears temporarily turning him deaf. He waited. Felt like hours, counting every throb of his left shoulder and wing, while waiting for the blessed coolness of a gun barrel against his temple. Send him back to camp already. Get it over with so he could lick his wounds in peace!

Nothing came. There were no footsteps crunching through the snow. No click-clack of reloading weapons, or the clink of swords being drawn. He was safe! In a few moments RED would give up the chase and head back to base. He would be free to escape with his dignity! A smile started on Medic's face and he opened his eyes. Wunderbar!

He moved to push himself up, steadying himself with outstretched wings, and the smile instantly turned sour. A shock arced up his wing, and Medic slumped back down into the snow. On second thought, staying here was seeming more and more like a good idea.

Careful not to move his wings that he held tight against his back, Medic slowly lifted himself up. He gave a quick, cautious look around, spotting no one, and scampered off as best as he could. He would have loved nothing more than to beat a hasty retreat back to BLU base to nurse his wounds. Climbing over a crate to reach a higher landing was a struggle, and he half-flared his wings when his balance was compromised (which Medic regretted instantly), but he managed. The second he slipped inside the small shack, sheltered away from the cold, he let a long sigh escape his lips as he sank to the floor. 

His limbs were no longer numb, and he was starting to feel the painful throb of every heartbeat as it sent blood to his injuries. Medic groaned, and scoot his way across the floor to lean his good shoulder against a wall. He inhaled, taking deep, steady breaths. Closing his eyes, he braced himself physically, mentally, and started to unfold his wing from where it was clamped against his back. There was a sharp intake of breath from the man. He paused for a moment, willing his heart to stop pounding the inside of his ribcage. Peeking one eye open, he glanced over his shoulder at his injured wing, and gave a small _tsk_ of disapproval at the way his otherwise pristine and clean wing was bent out of place, with blood-stained feathers sitting at odd, disheveled angles.. 

He moved off the wall and settled back down with his legs crossed, holding his wing as still as he could behind him. “Scheiße…” he repeated, letting one finger tenderly reach back to touch the feathered limb before he jerked it away. Most definitely broken, that was the official prognosis, Medic decided, based on the pain from pressure, and the way he _definitely_ did not want to move his wing. A closed fracture, thankfully, but the extent he couldn't be sure without an x-ray. 

Not as bad as it looked. Treatable, of course, once he had the proper tools. The medigun would patch him up fine, he only had to make it back there. He found himself briefly wishing the fall killed him. 

“Oi.”

Medic whirled around, kicking up the little snow he dragged in. Feathers sufficiently ruffled, he started to instinctively, defensively, spread his great white wings at the intruder. 

“I wouldn't do that,” said the RED Sniper in the doorway. 

Eyebrows pressed together, Medic continued to lift his wings until pain drove through one. A sharp cry played on his lips as he did the next best thing: shrinking inward and away from the obvious threat. “What do you want?” Medic hissed, wrapping his arms around himself, and not daring to move his wings. 

“Easy, mate. I've got no intention of harming you…” Sniper said, keeping his voice even and his movements slow as he raised his bare hands. Making a point of showing every move to the injured BLU, Sniper removed his rifle from where it was slung between his spotted brown wings, and set it down. With his heel, he kicked it behind him, out into the snow. “Well, no intention anymore,” he amended. He unbuckled his kukri from his belt and set that down as well, this time keeping it inside the shack but punting it into a far corner. 

“Anymore,” Medic mocked. 

“Right, well, that broken wing was my fault, and because of that, you’re rightly stuck here, ain’t’cha?” Sniper gave Medic an awkward smile, removing his hat to fiddle with it in his hands. He shook his wings, careful to keep them low and close to his back, with enough wiggle room for them to flutter comfortably to show his slight unease. 

Medic continued to stare, his gaze and pose unyielding to any kind of pressure. 

“Ah… Well, I wanted to help, maybe? If you’ll let me?” Sniper said after a minute of silence. 

“Why?”

At that, a small blush spread across Sniper’s cheeks. “I feel bad about it, alright? That was a bloody nasty fall that I caused. You'll have to take care of that break,” He pointed to Medic’s wing. “And ya can’t set that very easily on your own.”

Medic stayed silent, his gaze still piercing through Sniper, but he at least let his shoulders fall slack. It took another minute of standing in silence but Medic finally sighed and closed his eyes. “Very well,” he said, “but if you try anything funny, I'll tear your eyes out, got it?”

“No worries, Medic. I like my eyes too much to risk anything,” Sniper joked with a short, soft laugh. He placed his hat back on top of his head, and held out a hand. “Your wing, please?”

Medic turned to offer his injured limb, moving to stand, but stopped when Sniper waved away the motion. He sat back down instead, adjusting to neatly cross his legs like a child. 

The marksman was by his side in a heartbeat. He knelt to Medic’s side, and gingerly took the offered wing in one hand, the other holding a mound of melting snow he must’ve just picked up. Sniper frowned. “Sorry, doc,” he winced in sympathy. “Now, I know you’re a doctor,” Sniper started, glancing up at Medic’s angry face, “but at least give me this to make it up to you for shooting you out of the sky.” He pressed the snow to Medic’s wing, body heat causing it to begin melting instantly. 

It was cold though, and it hurt, and Medic hissed, nearly jerking his wing away from the enemy. 

Sniper snorted. “Bloody hold still, will ya?” He let the snow sit in place. “Numb enough, I hope,” he muttered, looking at the limb in earnest. Not bad, only bent enough to make him feel uncomfortable, but he could manage a makeshift splint for the doctor to make it back with little discomfort. “Can I trust you to not move? I need supplies for a splint.” 

A small smile tugged at the corners of Medic’s mouth. “I won’t go anywhere.”

The marksman nodded, and temporarily, the only other sound in the shack were the soft footsteps of Sniper walking away.

Once Sniper was out of sight, Medic sighed. A long, deep exhale where his shoulders sank and feathers settled. He dared not move his left wing though, numb as it was, and as uncomfortable as it was to have the snow sitting on top his feathers, soaking them through with cold water. Medic’s head drooped forward. He could take his chances, book it out of the shack and back towards base. After all, Sniper was the enemy. An enemy that hadn’t yet killed him, despite his initial intentions. The doctor was injured, it would be an easy task to accomplish.

The cold was seeping into his limbs, and Medic wrapped his arms around his torso once more. Sucking in another breath, he willed his body heat to linger a moment longer within his chest.

“I know, mate. It’s cold out here,” Sniper said, an odd note of compassion in his voice. He had returned, one arm loaded with sturdy planks of wood. “I’m counting on ya to have some medical tape. Hold out your wing again?”

“I have tape.” Medic dug into his satchel, producing a roll of medical tape that he toss to Sniper, and once again offered his injured, bloodied limb to Sniper. 

“Thanks, doc.” Silence fell once again as Sniper took up his place kneeling beside the BLU.

Medic kept a close eye on the marksman. He was a professional after all, never mind his lost medical license. He would know how to take care of a broken bone, and would be able to, if said bone wasn’t one of his own. Procedures on oneself were always a bit trickier than those on another person. Sniper was careful with his wing, and Medic wondered why he worried in the first place. The RED uniform, perhaps.

In turn, Sniper held his numb wing, inspecting the limb in the same manner that Medic was watching him. Suddenly, Sniper’s golden brown aviators filled his vision, making Medic jump. 

The half-melted snow was brushed off of Medic’s wing as Sniper explained the situation. “I’m sure ya know this, but I’m gonna set the bone, then the splint. I’ll do my best to clean it up too.” He paused, but continued to stare at Medic, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in an unspoken question.

“ _Ja_ , I understand.” Medic forced a burst of air through his nose in a harsh exhale, and gave Sniper a curt nod. He clicked his tongue, and retrieved a clean cloth from his satchel. Said cloth was quickly stuffed into his mouth, folded between his teeth to protect the soft, tender bits.

Sniper rested his hands on either side of Medic’s cold, bent forewing, his fingertips turning chilly from the touch. “Awright, hang on tight,” was the only warning Medic got before Sniper put pressure on the bone.

Everything was on _fire_. 

Medic wanted to scream. All he managed was a muffled cry around the makeshift gag. His fingers dug into his arms, nails threatening to tear at fabric. Eyes screwed shut, brow furrowed to the point of pain. He did what he could to stay still, but he flinched and shuddered and flailed his good wing while Sniper kept a firm grip on the injured one. Dust and snow whipped up around them as Medic’s wing beat at the ground, then fell limp.

The doctor slumped forward, almost out of Sniper’s tightened grasp.

“Piss.”

-x-

Everything was bright, and there was a solid weight on his back. Medic wasn’t sure when he opened his eyes, and he blinked, willing them to adjust sooner. “Sniper?”

He was on the floor now, he recognized the wooden boards, and that weight was still there. Moving his arms, he attempted to push himself up.

“Mate, how many times will you make me say it? Bloody hold still.”

A thump as Medic let his chin hit the floor. He worked his mouth, smacking his lips and trying to clean the odd taste from his tongue. There was a soreness through his body, mostly concentrated around his shoulders and his wing, which—! His head snapped up again. Limited pain, and there was still the sensation of cold hands manipulating his feathers, but it felt better than it did before.

“That should do it,” Sniper said, a hint of pride in his voice.

The weight was lifted, and the sound of footsteps brought Sniper around to crouch in front of Medic. “Done?”

Sniper nodded. “Hope ya don’t mind me sittin’ on you there. Easier to reach your wing like that.” He shrugged, the motion causing his own wings to flutter, then nestle back down among his body. “Got the splint in place an’ everything. You’re the Medic here, so I’m sure ya know but don’t move that wing and get back ta base as soon as ya can.” 

Medic glanced at the marksman. “ _Danke_ , Herr Sniper.” He pushed himself up, sitting cross-legged again, and twisted his head around to inspect Sniper’s handiwork. The splint was crude, with planks lashed together with medical tape and bound parallel along the length of his bones. But it functioned properly, keeping his wing tightly in place against his back, and minimizing irritation from any movement. True to his word as well, Sniper had attempted a small clean up, wiping away majority of the blood that had dried. He would need some serious preening though, to get the rest of the stains out.

There was a slender, gloved hand in his view now, palm up, and Medic followed the arm to Sniper’s warm amber gaze. 

“You’re welcome, mate. I did what I could, but you should hurry along to your base. It’s getting dark. I’m sure your team is worried about you.”

The doctor took the hand, and let Sniper pull him up. He was unsteady at first, the new weight causing Medic to lean to one side while Sniper grabbed his shoulders to keep him standing.

“I’m fine,” Medic half-lied, raising his good wing to provide a counter-weight.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll walk ya to your base.” Sniper held out his arm.

Medic grit his teeth, sticking out his lower lip in a small pout. “Perhaps that’s for the best. Doctor’s orders, after all,” he muttered, and grabbed the extended arm.

The travel back was slow, cold, and quiet, as both mercenaries kept to themselves beyond a polite question or two. The sun set, leaving the remaining rays to continue their waning attempt to stretch across the landscape. With the lights of BLU base coming into view, Medic let go of Sniper’s arm. Sniper frowned.

“I’ll take it from here, Sniper, thank you.” He grabbed at his own biceps as he curled his arms around himself to ward off the chill. 

“I can take you further, it’s not a problem,” the marksman protested, even as he stepped away from Medic.

“ _Nein_ , I’ll make it just fine. You should make it back to your own base, before you catch a cold.” A smile spread on Medic’s face, and he gave Sniper’s shoulder a pat. “Next time we meet, perhaps I’ll spare you a crossbow bolt.”

Sniper stepped further back, unfolding his wings. “If you say so, doc.” He adjusted his aviators, giving Medic a small shake of his head. Double-checking that his weapons were secure across his body, Sniper turned his back to the doctor. “Take care, mate.” He jumped, fiercely beating his wings to gain altitude, and starting up a small flurry of snow.

Medic raised a hand in farewell, watching the slim form of Sniper shrink into a brown blob, then finally, disappearing into the dark.


End file.
